Cathy felt numb as she sat at the doorstep leading to their backyard garden. It had been five years! Five years of trying to put those horrid final moments behind her. Five years of doing her best to patch her relationship with her husband, Zach. And that was also difficult: I mean, how do you repair a relationship with a man on whom you cheated for over six months?
Zach appeared to be taking things in his stride. He had never once mentioned anything relating to her infidelity five years ago. That also added to her guilt. She couldn’t live with herself. Every night, she saw Dale – a very fiery and angry Dale. He came to her, calling her name in the softest of tones imaginable, inviting her for one more tryst. Every night, she drifted towards him, and every time, he set her ablaze with his touch. She would scream, begging him to let her go, set her free, but he would laugh, a laugh that sounded like the burning of dry leaves and branches. But just as his fire was about to consume her, he would withdraw, as if he himself had been scorched by his own fire.
As she sat at the doorstep leading to their backyard garden, staring into nothingness, Cathy hoped the note was only a sick joke one mean child is playing on them. She could not bear to believe that Dale survived that fire. They had made sure that the house was ablaze before they got into the taxi and drove away. There was no way Dale could have made it out. Besides, he had suffered a mortal injury, even before she had decided to torch their house. Dale was dead. He was dead! Dead! Dead!!! No one came back from the dead to taunt the living with sinister notes. Even Jesus did not do such a thing. She had to do something, but what could she do?
Zach was thinking along the same lines as he sat beside his wife at the doorstep. Something must be done about this note. They could not report harassment to the police because they could not report the dead. And if they decided to, they would have to expose their part in the death of that person. It had been five long years, sixty good months since they had burned down their house. That guy should be resting in peace in his ashes. Looking at his wife tucked in his side, he knew she was doing her best to handle it. He knew it would become part of the dreams she would be having at night. And he knew there was squat he could do about it all. What kind of man was he if he could not protect his wife? Something had to be done, and fast, but he had no idea how to fight a literate ghost. He sighed.
“Cathy, my love, the food will go cold. Come on, let’s go and have breakfast.”
“I’m not hungry, Zach,” she replied dully.
“My dear, I’m not sure starving will bring a resolution. We will figure something out together. Let’s have breakfast.” Zach got up and tried to pull Cathy up but she would not budge. She just shook her head. “Go on and eat. I’ll join you soon.”
Zach left her at the doorstep and headed for the kitchen. Truly, he had also lost appetite, but someone had to be strong for the both of them, and being the man, he felt it was his natural duty to do so. He sat at their small, circular, wooden dining table and helped himself to the fried eggs and a pot of coffee that had long gone cold. He began to quiz himself with critical questions: could that man (he didn’t want to mention his name) have miraculously survived? If he had, how was that possible? Zach remembered rather hazily that Cathy had set their house ablaze. If by some fickle chance the man had survived the bullet injury, how could he have escaped the inferno unscathed? Or, did ghosts really exist in the 21st century?
Zach rose quickly from his seat at the table, determined to make his wife cheerful in spite of the situation. He went back to their backyard to get his wife. He would suggest a day out, get active, have fun, maybe find a secluded place along the beach and make love… just something to bring back the mood they had sparked just that dawn. However, he had to find his wife first. He had not heard her move from her seat at the door. Where could she have gone to? Oh no, what if the deliverer of the note had abducted his wife? Had he lost her again?! He cried out in anguish, “Cathy!!!”
